The first day actually hunting this season was pretty damn good. I was into elk. They were talking and I was close. Really close. I thought I had it figured out so I got up the next morning and headed out well before light. Again, I had a half-day booked for the afternoon so I had already talked to a few guys about helping me out if I did shoot my elk. I was pretty confident.
I walked into the same drainage I had found them the day before and let out a few cow calls. Nothing. I bugled and again; nothing. They either weren't there or they weren't talking. I thought maybe somebody had been in there the night before but who knows? Maybe I pushed them out the morning before. Regardless, plan A was a bust and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to happen. There was plan B though.
I busted on out of there and headed across the main drainage to where I had seen a lot of sign in August on my scouting excursion. I hiked up into the parks and skirted along the tree-line. I crested a ridge and looked further up the park and into an old clear-cut. About a half-mile away, there was an elk. I glassed it--just a spike. I cow called.
The first response was a little weird. It wasn't the spike but it wasn't very big either. It was like a bull in training or something. He would let out the beginning of a bugle but then stop before really lighting up. It was almost like he was working up to something big but just didn't have it in him or was too shy to really give it his all. I've never heard that.
I cow called a few more times and in the timber on the next ridge over, a bigger bull whistled. Now we're talking. I called again and he called back but he was a long ways away and I couldn't really pin-point him. One time he sounded like he was on the top of the ridge and the next time it sounded like he was behind the ridge almost a mile away.
We went back and forth for a few minutes and then I heard a grunt of a bull that sounded pretty close; like it was down in the bottom of the ravine right below me. It was just a one-timer though and with the other bull bugling, I wasn't sure if it was the same bull or a different one. I checked the wind. There was just a slight breeze bringing my sent down-hill into the ravine--not good. I thought about heading out and making a plan to come back up there the next morning with a buddy when the wind was more favorable. The bull in the bottom grunted again.
"Dammit," I thought. What to do, what to do? Was this bull coming in on me?
I use cover-up scents religiously and I've gotten real close to elk when I thought they would wind me. It's not a guarantee but more of a precaution that may help out in crunch time. I don't rely on it but I know it's helped in the past. Maybe he wouldn't wind me. "Dammit."
The bull grunted again and he sounded like he was only a hundred yards away or so. I couldn't help it. I took a few steps to get a better vantage point looking down the ridge. I stayed close to the trees but had to expose myself to in order to get a good look.
"Fuck!" (I think I actually mouthed the word.) Right inside the tree-line off the park and only fifty yards away, there he was looking right at me; a small six. I lifted my binoculars to my eyes and confirmed that yes indeed, I was busted.
He was looking directly at me. He was still as a statue--eyes trained on me. I stopped and froze and waited. We were in a stand-off again. He eventually turned his head and with his eyes behind a tree now, I thought it was safe to at least knock an arrow with the chance he might step out and I could get a shot. The movement was too much and he wheeled to head back down the ravine. He took a few steps just out of sight and I cow called again to stop him.
Elk have a pretty extensive language. Bugles, grunts, cow calls and chirps can all help you get close to the animals if you know what they mean. Bugles can be anything from, "Hey, where are you?" to, "Dude, this is my territory. Get the hell out." Grunts can show agitation and aggression and chirps from a bull might be trying to get your attention to figure out where and what you are. A bark...you never want to hear a bull bark. When that happens you're pretty much done.
This guy did bark. It was fricken loud and it echoed throughout the mountains and every animal within a mile knew something was up. The bull on the next ridge stopped talking. The young bull trying to bugle stopped and even the Canadian Jays stopped squawking. Morning number two: a bust.
I stood there frozen for a minute just waiting for things to settle down before I turned and headed back out. Just then I saw the antlers of another bull walk through the same path as the first bull. He wasn't busting out but he wasn't stopping either. "Dammit!"
The second bull trotted off and then I knew the hunt was over for sure. I fixed my arrow back on my quiver and turned to hike back to my truck. I already started planning the next morning as I was definitely coming back up to the parks to find these bulls again. They weren't going to go far.
Keep 'em where they live...
No comments:
Post a Comment